


Hey Ice, So You Know How You’re In Love, Right?

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Hard ons, Ice needs a kick up the ass, Insults, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, One-Sided Attraction, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 02:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20202595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: Sometimes all Iceman needed was his loving and caring friends to kick him up the ass and make him talk about his feelings. That and Hollywood had a bet, that he’d do it, somehow. In the showers.They all knew what he was about to say, anyway.Prompted by an anonymous tumblr ask.





	Hey Ice, So You Know How You’re In Love, Right?

“Hey Ice, how do you know your in love?”

Iceman stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly, helmet and flight gear in hand, and whipped of his aviators. His hazel eyes roamed up and down Hollywood, looking for the joke. The trap.

Slider stood beside him, a possessive arm around Iceman. He laughed and peeled away, defecting to Hollywood’s side.

“_What_?” Iceman was shocked at the loss of contact, he composed himself, “That was real blunt Wood. That’s just my game.”

“Being in love or being blunt?”

He hesitated.

“Going with both then, Kazansky. So again, Ice, how do you know your in love?”

“I’ll pay you fifty bucks to get it ‘outta him, Wood. Good luck.” Slider remarked as he began to stalk away, laughing.

Iceman looked around, eyes weary, as fellow flight crews passed them in the hangar.

“Not here.”

Hollywood sniggered. If he hadn’t had his flight gear in his hands, he’d surely have a hand on his hips or his arms folded, an eyebrow raised and he’d be chewing, staring Iceman down over the tops of his shades. Iceman would be falling victim to the heat.

They headed separate to the locker room.

Iceman began to strip himself, starting with his belt. Hollywood, with a towel around his waist and a comb running through his hair was chatting and laughing. They had lost their hop but, he wasn’t about to lose for another time that day. Hollywood kept a mischievous azure eye on Iceman and gauged his reactions: the scowl on his face; the groan; the split second his spine straightened and he tensed.

_Mitchell_.

Hollywood smirked.

Iceman and Slider continued to peel themselves free from their sweat soaked flight suits. Iceman was incredibly slow, to ensure that they he was one of the last men in the room.

Maverick and Goose were still talking. Still with flight suits hanging around their waists and Hollywood could tell that Iceman was getting impatient.

The chatter died down at the sound of a challenging, teasing tone.

“..What’s your problem, Kazansky?” Hollywood smirked as Iceman startled. He was chewing, faster, and he slammed his locker.

Both Slider and Goose rolled their eyes.

“You.. you’re everyone’s problem.” Hollywood struggled not to laugh at Iceman’s overly assertive tone, “that’s because every time to go up in the air, your unsafe.”

He heard Slider snort and Hollywood raised his eyebrows at him, a grin plastering his face.

“I don’t like you because your _dangerous_.”

Slider made a very rude, obscene but hilarious gesture at Iceman’s back. Hollywood bit hit lip in a futile attempt to suppress his laughter. Wolfman too was sniggering, limbs handing loose across the bench. Goose looked quizzically to them. Goose winked. 

“That’s right, Ice—“ Something invisible was brushed off of Kazansky’s shoulder, “—man.” Iceman tensed as a blow was delivered across his pecs.

“I _am_ dangerous.”

Hollywood, Wolfman and Slider all had to suppress their laughter at what happened next. It was hot, Hollywood couldn’t deny.

Iceman snapped his jaws. His teeth clashed; and they all heard it. He raised his blonde eyebrows once and grinned, predatory, looking right into those challenging green eyes.

Maverick just grinned back. Iceman reached out to him and for the first time, both Slider and Hollywood noted, Iceman touched him. _He_ reached out. _He_ touched Maverick. Sure it was a quick couple pats on the shoulder at an attempt to play nice but, Iceman had made contact with the enemy. That sure as hell meant something.

They hovered a while, long after Maverick and Goose were summoned to Viper’s office.

He heard Iceman groan and saw him roll his eyes as he shot a too tanned arm into his locker for his towel. Iceman sent Hollywood a knowing look that he followed suit. A pilot get together in the showers was in order.

Slider left them too it, knowing exactly what Hollywood was planning to do. He’d already been debriefed. He hadn’t been able to keep a straight face but, he knew exactly what Hollywood wanted to hear. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t heard it himself. He loved Iceman sure, but sometimes, he just needed a slap to the back of his pretty head. Or a kick up his perfect ass. Plenty of kicks up the ass.

It had been an hour since they had arrived in the locker room. Both Hollywood and Iceman had been waiting out in the shower stalls, talking and hiding themselves behind the hiss of the showers.

“Ice.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Ice.”

He turned away, reaching for the gel in the dispenser.

“_Kazansky!_”

He turned back and slipped, with a desperate hand clutching at the wall to steady himself. Hollywood laughed and laughed, his handsome face creasing up.

“Yeah, Rick.” Iceman tried to act coy.

“How in holy hell do you fricking know that _you’re _in love? Just answer, man.”

Iceman’s lips parted, then closed. Then parted and again closed. He was blushing, it started high up on his cheekbones and painted his face with blazing warm tones. Hollywood sniggered.

“Tom. C’mon, I.. probably won’t laugh.”

“Why’d you come to me? Go ask Wolfe. Or Mitchell about him tailing our teacher.” Iceman trailed off and mumbled something that vaguely resembled ‘cheeky mother-‘

Hollywood’s rich laugh cut him off.

“Sure, Mitchell. I bet he could define love perfectly. Chasing a woman, those perfect curves, screwing her, kissing after sex…” Iceman right eye twitched, “…the tension, the competition, keeping up with her and that _ass_…” Iceman began scratching his forearm uncontrollably, “the thought of him inside, falling harder and harder with each thru—“

Hollywood gasped as he was shoved against the wall. He was laughing again, as Iceman’s slick hands tried to keep him in place.

“The hell, Kazansky.”

Iceman startled at his sudden outburst. He straightened up, looking guilty (the very thought made it incredibly hard for Hollywood not to deliver insult after insult but he still had to get a rise out of Iceman, so he reluctantly kept quiet) and Iceman backed away. He headed back to his shower and ran a shaky hand through his skewed frosted tips.

“You know your.. uh, _fuck_..”

Hollywood crept closer, fighting with himself to not smirk at the sight of Iceman: flushed and embarrassed, his stone cold gaze melting and dissipating.

“When you… can’t stop thinking about them. They invade your every damn thought. You’re picturing them smile and laugh, you’re haunted by their tears, their yells.. you uh, struggle to keep your hands off of them, you scream and shout when all you want to do is throw them down and crawl atop of them, hands in their hair, tongue in their mouth. They mean everything to you. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you concentrate on a single thing because they are always there. You feel their presence even when they are not around, you want them to be with you all of the time, laughing, hugging.. kissing. You just ache at the very sound of their breathing…” Iceman trailed off, pink in the face, flush spreading across his slick pecs.

Iceman shook his head in disbelief. Hollywood was sure that he could see the tears threatening to fall.

“Kazansky.. I, shit, didn’t think you-“ He acted coy.

“-Save it. It’s _my_ problem, not yours.”

“I’m in love with Wolfe.”

Iceman barked out a laugh. “I know.”

“You’re the gayest one of all us confused homos.”

Iceman visibly blanked. His mouth was moving fast, a list of retorts failed to breech the surface.

“We all know, man, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Whose _we_?” Iceman demanded.

Hollywood hesitated.

“_Neven_.” Iceman’s voice was frosty.

“All of us from flight school. The way you looked at him, the closeness… It was all in your eyes man, they were goddamn huge. They gave you away, plus that smile I hadn’t seen before. The way Cou-“

“-Fuck, don’t..”

Of course Hollywood kept going, “he’s not gay and you were crushed. He’s happily married now and you, you moved on.”

“He and I were like brothers in flight school.. we never..”

“You kissed him. Multiple times.”

Iceman sputtered something pointless, “Ice, that’s besides the point. You misjudged and freaked yourself out. But now.. Mitchell, fuck, watch it. None of us know what we are dealing with here.”

Iceman finally turned off the water.

“I can’t.. _can’t_ do it, you hear? I don’t.. I don’t… _love_ him, I wouldn’t do that. It’s forbid-“

“-Bullshit Tom. You fricking melt every time he walks in the damn room..”

“I thought this conversation was meant to be about you, not you attacking me.”

Iceman trailed off at the sound of Hollywood stifling his chuckles.

“You are so full of shit, Neven.” He spat as he had a clumsy hand searching for his towel.

Hollywood just rolled his eyes and strutted out of the shower stall. He grabbed both his and Iceman’s towels, and opened Iceman’s door.

He looked down and there he saw it. His confirmation, staring (aching) at Hollywood in the face. He folded his arms and leant up against the doorframe. He had an eyebrow raised, not at all fussed about covering himself.

Iceman gave him a challenging look. He was naked and bested but Hollywood didn’t budge.

“You really are quite the little _fag_ aren’t you Tommy,” it wasn’t a question. He gestured wildly to Iceman’s waist.

Iceman was too shocked to defend himself which only scared Hollywood all the more.

“Yes. Yes for fuck sake, I’m a fucking _faggot_ alright,” he belted, scaring himself, “and I’m falling for.. that, that…_asshole_.” He snatched a towel and brushed past Hollywood.

Iceman took a seat, he was shaking, calculating his next move and failing.

“Who are you falling for, Tom?” His voice was light, teasing.

Iceman snapped his hazel eyes upwards, they roamed all over Hollywood’s naked form.

“Fucking Maverick.”

“Took you long enough.” Hollywood roled his eyes so hard, Iceman was sure he was checking out his own brain.

It was strange behaviour from the both of them but Hollywood wasn’t backing down now.

“The hell are you on about Neven?” Iceman’s hand had closed on his dogtags, he fiddled with the chain whilst awaiting an answer.

Hollywood looked at him like he was slow. “Jesus Christ… you, Mav, me and Wolfe Friday night. O’Club. Be there. Make him horny for your perfect ass filling out those service whites. Don’t drink beforehand.”

“You set up a-“

“-Yup.”

“With Mitch-“

“-He’s got you, man. He’s got you in his sights. It’s like a fricking dog fight every time your inches apart. You’re either going to smash him into a locker, or smash him up_ against_ a locker. We all know it. Believe it or not Kazansky, we’re rooting for you.”

Iceman’s voice was small, “Even Slider, after we... uh” They shares a knowing look and Iceman didn’t elaborate further.

Hollywood shrugged his shoulders, “He hates sharing you, you greedy git.”

“I don’t think I can.. Mitchell, fuck, I like him, too much. It’s _dangerous_ and he-“

“-wouldn’t have it any other way.” Hollywood winked, Iceman squirmed.

He tied his towel and hovered in front of Iceman, taking in the poorly concealed blush in his face.

“Just be there, you pussy.” Iceman began to talk back but, “and for the love of, Ice, that crappy soap.. sort yourself out.”

Iceman blushed darker and looked down at himself. Hollywood began to chuckle again and Iceman, skating on thin ice, relented. He joined in, his laughter intermingled.

“That’s more like it. I’ll man the door if you want, faggot.” He winked. Iceman smirked.

“You _would_ want to stick around, wouldn’t you Neven?”

“I won’t be getting any ‘till Friday…” 

Iceman’s eyes widened. “Sweet Lord.”

“Neither. Will. _You_. Tom.” He punctuated each word so Iceman couldn’t miss anything.

Iceman groaned, and palmed himself through his tiny white towel. Hollywood rolled his eyes, again.

“Fine, you dickhead. You can stay.” Iceman upped. With one finger he swiftly removed his towel and chucked it in Hollywood’s face.

He strutted straight back towards the stall, hips swaying, chest pushed out, and Hollywood swore.

“aaaand bitchy _Ice cold, no mistakes_ is back..” he muttered under his breath, “..so full of..” Iceman stopped, turned, shutting Hollywood up.

“Wood. Are you in or out?”

“Goddamn your thirsty.” He laughed.

He was met with a wolffish smile from Iceman who turned on his heel, ass in his face, and headed straight back into the steam.

“And the remaining MiG is bugging out. Can’t stand the heat, huh Wood?” Iceman’s smirk was goddamn audible.

“Fuck you, Ice.” He muttered under his breath. “I’m in.”


End file.
